


please stay

by wearing_tearing



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Sick Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Oliver asked Connor to stay and one time he didn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	please stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatthehale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale/gifts).



> crossposted from [tumblr](http://dylansneck.tumblr.com/post/104421962589/coliver-12). prompted by [hoechlinseverything](http://hoechlinseverything.tumblr.com): coliver + "please stay"
> 
> and also my first time writing connor/oliver oh gosh
> 
> **i do not give permission for any of my works to be added to or shared on other websites such as goodreads.**

**1.**

“ _Fuck_.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Oliver gasps, rocking his hips forward.

“Yeah, well,” Connor says, breath hitching as he tries to fuck himself into Oliver’s dick. “You could try a bit harder.”

“You’re so impatient.” Oliver shakes his head, still moving as slow as he can without making himself explode.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting a good _hard_ fuck,” Connor tells him, smirking when Oliver’s hips stutter.

“You’re hard alright,” Oliver teases, making his point by sneaking a hand between them and wrapping it around Connor’s dick.

He can’t help but grin to himself when that makes Connor hiss and his eyes roll to the back of his head, his nails digging into the skin of Oliver’s back. Oliver will probably have scratch marks later, but he can’t say that he minds.

“Stop teasing and _fuck me_ ,” Connor snaps when he sees Oliver smiling, clenching around him and nipping at Oliver’s lips as if that’ll somehow make Oliver move faster.

“What’s the magic word?” Oliver asks, pulling out of Connor just to he can thrust back in, inch by inch.

“I will _kill you_ ,” Connor groans. “And they’ll never find the body.”

Oliver snorts, moving so he can mouth at Connor’s neck.

“Okay,” Oliver murmurs, sucking a mark into Connor’s collarbone. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Connor breathes out, bringing his hands up so he can clutch at Oliver’s shoulders instead.

And Oliver does give him what he wants, hard and fast and brutal. So much so Connor even ends up hitting his head on the headboard a few times, Oliver kissing away his hurts and putting one of his hands between Connor’s head and the headboard. Because he might like teasing Connor until he’s blue in the face and so frustrated he’s getting angry, but Oliver doesn’t want to see him hurt.

Especially not when Connor looks so fucking _gorgeous_ when he comes, eyes close and head thrown back, red swollen lips parted in a silent moan. Oliver follows soon after, slumping on top of Connor as he tries to catch his breath, tries to get the feeling back into his legs.

It’s about two minutes later when Oliver starts feeling Connor shifting underneath him, his hands pushing at Oliver’s hips.

“C’mon, off,” Connor says. “I have class tomorrow morning, and I still need to clean up.”

Oliver swallows, heart beating rapidly in his chest. He tightens his arms around Connor, puts more of his weight on top of him.

“Stay,” Oliver says, proud of how steady his voice sounds. “I can make sure you leave on time. And I have some shirts and ties if you don’t want to put on the same clothes you wore tonight in the morning.”

“Oliver…,” Connor trails off, turning his head to the side so they’re face to face.

“Please stay.”

They stare at each other, Oliver watching as something flashes behind Connor’s eyes before he lets himself relax.

“Fine,” Connor huffs. “But get off me. I’m not going to sleep covered in come. And you need to get rid of the condom.”

Oliver kisses him quick on the mouth and moves, but he can’t really argue with that.

 

**2.**

“I’m going to be late.”

“No, you’re not,” Oliver says, rolling his eyes. “You still have over an hour to get to work.”

Connor makes a face at him, buttoning his pants.

Oliver has to admit he’s kind of sad to watch him do that. As far as he’s concerned, Connor should always be taking _off_ his clothes, not putting them back on.

“I need to stop by Wes’s first,” Connor says. “He has something I need.”

“Please stay for breakfast,” Oliver says, pointing at the slices of toast and bagels on the table. “Or take something to go, whatever.”

Connor looks from the food to Oliver and back again. “Do you have jam?”

“Oh, do I?” Oliver says dryly, turning on his back before Connor can see his smile.

“You’re not funny, you know.”

“I’m the funniest person you know,” Oliver tells him, setting the strawberry jam on the table. “Now eat.”

“Yes, mother,” Connor sighs, lips twitching when Oliver scrunches his nose up at him.

“Don’t refer to me as your mother ever again,” Oliver says. “It’s too weird.”

“I’ll try my best,” Connor says, and then wraps his fingers around Oliver’s wrist, tugging him close. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Oliver isn’t expecting it when Connor leans in and presses their lips together, but it still doesn’t stop him from kissing him back.

“You’re welcome.”

 

**3.**

“You have that face.”

Connor blinks at him, all mock innocence. “What face?”

“The one it means you’re about to ask me for a favor,” Oliver clarifies, raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, say, hacking into something again.”

Connor opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before smirking. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“Will I get a reward if I do?” Oliver asks, because two can play this game.

“What do you want?” Connor leans in, breath ghosting over Oliver’s lips. “Maybe we can try that thing with the handcuffs tonight.”

“Tempting,” Oliver says, licking his lips. “As long as you please stay for dinner before we break out the bondage.”

Connor startles back a little, eyes going wide for a second. “Dinner?”

“Yes,” Oliver nods. “You know, the thing people do when they eat food at night.”

“Funny,” Connor deadpans.

“That’s my offer,” Oliver tells him. “Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” Connor says without hesitation, and then grins. “As long as I’m the one cuffing you to bed.”

“You got yourself a deal,” Oliver says, and starts typing.

 

**4.**

“I’ll, uh, I’ll be back later.”

Oliver turns around to see Connor taking a few careful steps back out the door.

“Oh, no,” Oliver says. “Please stay right where you are. Or better yet, come help me.”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t think so,” Connor tells him, shaking his head.

“C’mon on, there’s only this wall left,” Oliver says. “It’ll be a lot faster if you help me.”

“I’m wearing Hugo Boss,” Connor says, baffled. “I’m not helping you paint your living room.”

“You know where my sweats and shirts are,” Oliver rolls his eyes. “Now go change and come help.”

Connor stares at him and at the mess his living room and clothes are, flecks of paint everywhere.

“What’s _my_ reward if I help you?” Connor asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Whatever you came here for,” Oliver shrugs. “Which I’m assuming is sex, isn’t it?”

Connor wrinkles his nose but doesn’t deny it. “If you try to start a paint war I’m out.”

“I think I can manage not to do that.”

“Okay.” Connor carefully makes his way around the living room, making sure not to get his clothes dirty, and stops directly in front of Oliver. “I didn’t come here just for sex,” Connor says, looking serious. “I also came here for the takeout I know it’s in your fridge.”

Connor kisses him once, hard and quick, on the lips and goes to the bedroom. But not before seeing the small smile on Oliver’s face.

 

**+1**

“You smell disgusting.”

“‘M sick,” Oliver sniffs, pulling the covers tighter around himself. “Go away.”

“Being sick is not an excuse not to shower,” Connor says, climbing into bed.

“‘S exactly that,” Oliver mumbles. “Can’t move. No shower.”

“That’s pathetic,” Connor says, tugging at the covers and trying to free Oliver from them. “C’mon, I’ll help you shower and change.”

“Don’t wanna,” Oliver whines, curling into a ball. “Too sick.”

“It’ll make you feel better, I promise,” Connor says, successfully uncovering Oliver’s head.

“Ugh,” Oliver groans, trying to stick his head under the pillow. “ _No_.”

“I will roll you out of the bed,” Connor threatens. “And then I’ll drag you to the shower. Are you sure you want me to do that? Because I’ll _never_ let you live it down.”

Oliver sniffs and coughs and thinks about it. Logically he knows Connor is right, taking a shower and changing clothes and sheets will make him feel better. But his entire body _hurts_ and he feels and _looks_ disgusting and he _doesn’t want to move_.

“I’ll make you soup if you go shower,” Connor tells him, swiping Oliver’s hair from his forehead. “And I won’t complain if you want to cuddle.”

Oliver blinks one eye open and stares up at Connor. “Really?”

“Really,” Connor says, nodding.

“You’ll stay?” Oliver asks.

“You don’t have to ask,” Connor says softly, smiling.

“And cuddle?”

“That’s what I said,” Connor sighs.

And that’s exactly what Connor does, helping Oliver to the shower and making sure he doesn’t fall over as he washes his hair, letting Oliver brace himself on his shoulders while Oliver try to get his pants up, bringing him soup in bed and helping Oliver eat.

“Now cuddles,” Oliver says after finishing his food, not wasting anytime before throwing one arm and one leg around Connor and hugging him tight.

Connor huffs but doesn’t say anything, just gets one hand on Oliver’s hair and starts playing with it.

“Thanks,” Oliver says, rubbing his cheek against Connor’s chest. “For staying.”

“Sure,” Connor mutters. “The things I do for…”

And Oliver is out before Connor can finish the sentence.


End file.
